Water In My Lungs

Conception

        In enough time for Estelle and Dempsey to stop at a vending machine and find Connor's room in the intensive care unit, Killian came strolling up. Dempsey flicked his head up from bag of cheese puffs and chomped a few times before speaking.

“Ey! Where the 'ell have you been?” he called, standing and licking his fingers.

“Walking. Is she awake?” Killian's head bobbed between Dempsey and the doorway to their right.

        “Not yet,” Dempsey answered. “Nurse said she should be coming out of it soon, though. Let's go in.” With that, they all took steps towards the door and entered slowly, an illogical fear of waking a sleeping friend overcoming them.

Killian took the chair nearest the hospital bed and sat rigidly. His hands clenched together as his elbows rested on his knees.

“I'm gonna have words with that nurse here pretty quick,” he said impatiently. Estelle looked to Dempsey with round eyes as he chuckled.

“It'll be fine, mate,” the young Irishman said, patting his friend's thigh encouragingly. “Look.”

        Killian stood and jumped to Connor's side. Her eyelids flexed in their closed position, eyelashes trembling. Blonde eyebrows knitted together in a troubled expression and a heavy breath fell out of her mouth.

        Lights loomed behind a thick curtain, a dull red hue dotted with blue and green and purple orbs stained her vision. She was confused, her thoughts lugging their way through her brain as she tried to make sense of it all.

She forced her mouth to move, her tongue merely twitching with the great effort. Voices began to drift into her space, familiarity booming and she felt her heart kick into a quicker rhythm.

        “Connor...” She heard her name as a mumble, a bullet through a wall of tree sap. She tried to respond.

        “Are you awake?” came the question. A low, resonating pitch fell over her ears and she groped at the little alertness that she had, fighting to heighten it. Her vocal cords vibrated.

        “Killian,” she managed, her voice raspy and dry. She coughed, her throat trying to coat itself with fluid that wasn't there. A shadow passed over her darkened sight.

        “I'll get you some ice chips, Connor,” she heard Estelle offer and she smiled without the sensation of her cheeks pulling at her lips. Her eyelids lifted and she looked past the looming figure closest to her at dark curtains being drawn closed by a familiar shape; long, dark blonde hair and broad shoulders reaching upwards. Dempsey.

        “Hi,” Killian's voice flooded over her and she felt her heart quicken even more, her chest clenching in excitement.

        “Hi,” her voice was small, higher pitched than her normal alto tone of voice and broken with the dryness of her throat. Killian touched her cheek with his thumb and trailed her jawline softly.

        “I'm happy to see you're awake,” he cooed. “I was worried.”

                “Where did you come from? I thought you said you didn't want to be around me,” she squeaked, a feeling of hurt glazing her words. Killian's heart dropped.

        “I never wanted that, I just...” His voice broke. “I just wanted you safe,” the end of his sentence was followed by a slow rise of tears, one falling down his cheek and hitting her slack hand, resting in his. She wanted to reach out and brush them away as they all tipped precariously at the edge of his eyes.